


Everyday Magic

by orphan_account



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Cheeky references, Fluff, Hogwarts AU, Honestly I just love Hogwarts AUs and I wanted to write loads of little pieces, I'll found anyone on their houses idec, Kissing, Multi, Originally written for TDPBB, Quidditch, Semi-adult humour, Semi-connected oneshots, jk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 03:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21029429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A series of oneshots from various character's lives at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.Rayllum/SorgrenTags/pairings may change!





	1. Rayllum

**Author's Note:**

> I am a major Potterhead so of course I had to tackle a Hogwarts AU with my faves. Instead of being a huge ongoing fic, this is just a series of oneshots with various pairings. 
> 
> The chapter title will have the main pairing in there!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

‘What are you wearing?’ Soren asked, quirking an eyebrow. He looked like a model, Callum mused, leaning on his broom in a t-shirt and Quidditch practice leggings.

‘What’s wrong with it?’ the younger boy asked, tapping his head. ‘I don’t want to fall and break my neck.’

Soren looked Callum up and down, and then again. ‘You gotta lose the helmet. I’m not teaching you anything with a damn helmet on.’

Disgruntled, Callum removed the bike helmet and chucked it on the grass. ‘Anything else, coach?’ he asked sarcastically.

‘You don’t have to call me coach,’ Soren replied, oblivious. ‘Now question one; have you ever been on a broom before?’

‘Yes,’ Callum said with a nod. ‘Once. At Harrow’s place. I ran into a tree.’

Soren’s body deflated a little. ‘Right…. You know that Quidditch is fast and dangerous and stuff, right? And that the aim is to  _ win _ , not to  _ die _ ?’

‘There’s no trees for me to run into on a Quidditch pitch,’ Callum pointed out.

‘Can’t argue with that.’ Soren clapped his hands. ‘Get on your broom and we’ll do a few laps. I thought we might be able to chuck the quaffle around but apparently you’re a literal baby deer  _ so  _ we’ll just leave them all in their boxes.’

Callum slung one leg over the crappy broom he’d pilfered from the school supply cupboard. It was a Comet 220 if the peeling silver lettering on the handle was correct. It had a number of little scrapes and nicks in the wood, and the twigs in the tail stuck out at odd angles.

This would be the broomstick that he died on, he mused.

Soren kicked off from the ground like it was as natural as breathing, ascending a few metres high.

‘You’re not scared of heights, are you?’

‘No,’ Callum replied, gripping the handle. He didn’t sound very sure.

He pushed off with his toes and the broom was airborne. How anyone could keep their balance on such a skinny piece of wood he had no idea.

‘Cool, yeah your broom doesn’t have pedals but that’s okay,’ Soren said, floating closer. ‘Cool so the broom reacts to your body. If you lean forward you’ll go faster, if you lean back you’ll slow down. Left goes left, right goes right, blah blah blah it’s easy. Pull the handle up to go higher and push it down to go lower.’

Callum nodded, although he was pretty sure he retained none of that information. Pull handle to pull up, made sense okay.

‘Your broom is older than the headmaster and he’s literally ancient so like… you shouldn’t go shooting off anywhere,’ Soren laughed. ‘But yeah don’t die, I’m already failing Harrow’s class without your death on my hands.’

With that vote of confidence, Callum tested the broom under his hands. He leaned closer to the handle and it darted forward. He gripped it tight, but he was okay. The grass underneath him looked soft, and Soren was a fast flyer… he’d be fine.

‘Callum, kids swingsets go higher than you are right now,’ Soren pointed out. He floated ahead, starting the lap. ‘Come on, catch up.’

Callum took a breath. Rayla would be super impressed if he could nail this. He’d make the team and maybe they could practice together; go on moonlight flights.

They finished the lap, Soren looking bored and impatient the whole time.

‘Cool, we’ll do another one,’ he instructed. ‘But faster. Ready?’

Callum readjusted his grip on the broom handle, and on Soren’s cue he leaned even further down the broomstick. He let out a yelp as he rocketed forward, holding on for dear life.

‘Pull up,’ Soren said, catching up to him. ‘Slow down or you’ll hit the stands!’

Callum yanked the handle higher, keeping his body close. Unfortunately, this did nothing to slow him down, but instead turned the broom towards the sky and shot him higher than the scoring hoops, and even the fancy house coloured flags.

‘Soren!’ he wailed.

The blonde was beside him in a heartbeat. ‘Lean back, arms straight,’ he yelled over the sound of the wind rushing between them.

Callum did as he was told and the broom came to a gentle halt, much much higher than he wanted to be. The pitch itself was tiny below them, and he was pretty sure his hands were fused to the scratched up wooden handle.

‘Well that was fun,’ Soren said, letting out a breathless laugh. ‘Now we’re gonna descend  _ really slowly _ .’

The emphasis on that last part made Callum swallow. At least if he was going higher there wasn’t anything to run into. Grass wasn’t soft when you hit it going 50km an hour.

‘Push your handle down a tiny bit, and maybe we’ll go down in circles so it’s a little gentler…. Ready?’

Together the two did slow loops around the pitch, getting lower and lower each time. When Callum’s feet finally found the pitch, the spell broke and the broom gave way for his legs to take his weight.

They did not.

His knees folded like origami and he hit the ground with a wobbly sigh.

‘Not bad for a first try,’ Soren said cheerfully, scratching at a mark on his own pristine broom. ‘I think we’ll leave it at that tonight though.’

‘Good idea,’ Callum mumbled.

‘Do I need to levitate you back to Ravenclaw tower?’

‘Maybe,’ the fourth year muttered. ‘Let’s give flying lessons a break for now.’

‘Nonsense. If you fall off the broom you gotta get back on the broom. I’ll owl you a roster. Come on, help me carry this box.’

#

Callum’s legs were shaking before he even put a foot on the pitch for his second session with Soren. He’d pulled up okay the day after he nearly flew to the moon, but the nerves were back in full swing now.

He’d read  _ Quidditch through the Ages  _ at least twice in the last week, but it turned out there were no flying tips and just history, but it was interesting, so he read it a few more times just for fun.

Even though it was dark, the pitch was lit by a handful of tall lights and the grass seemed to glow a little. Callum nearly dropped the Comet 220 when he saw who was waiting for him.

Soren, of course, dressed in his house training gear; the green serpentine S snaking across his chest and a smug grin on his face. He had his fancy broom slung over one shoulder and a quaffle tucked under his free arm. His position was printed on the back of his cloak; Chaser.

Gren, another sixth year. Not as broad in the shoulders as Soren, but taller. His red hair was tangled, like he’d been raking his fingers through it, and he had a tiny smile on his freckled face. He looked good in his team training gear; the black badger splashed across his front was more intimidating than what people usually thought of Hufflepuffs. The word ‘Keeper’ was written across the shoulders of his uniform.

Finally Corvus, a seventh year. Slighter than both of the others, but powerful and stoic. His braids were pulled back off his face like they always were when he played. Everyone in the school knew Corvus; he’d probably be receiving offers from Quidditch teams all over the world in the next few months. A golden lion was emblazoned on his training gear, and the word on his shoulders read ‘Seeker’.

Callum realised he was in the presence of Hogwarts Quidditch  _ royalty _ .

‘Sorry guys,’ he called, raising a hand. ‘The photographer for  _ Quidditch Daily  _ couldn’t make it. You can stop posing now.’

Gren snorted, and Corvus just rolled his eyes.

‘So I was thinking about how much you sucked,’ Soren said cheerfully. ‘And decided to bring out the big guns.’

Callum barely had a moment to react as Soren tossed the quaffle at him lightly. He caught it, but it nearly winded him.

‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’ Corvus asked Soren, who just shrugged.

‘The kid wants to learn how to fly. It’s not like Ravenclaw are gonna be re-opening try-outs any time soon,’ Soren pointed out. ‘Besides, I don’t think Callum knows exactly how to even play.’

‘And you needed the ‘big guns’ for this?’ Gren asked, pulling on his gloves.

‘Nope,’ Soren said with a grin. ‘I needed some friends to keep me company while Callum takes ten years to do a single lap.’

‘You guys all know I can hear you, right?’ Callum deadpanned.

‘Enough listening in on other people’s conversations, more broom riding,’ Soren said, snapping his fingers.

Callum didn’t even have a chance to take off his heavy winter cloak before the three of them were in the air. He scrabbled to get on the broom and tried to remember what Soren had taught him last time. As the broom rose he tested his weight; moving from side to side and pushing and pulling the handle and leaning back and forward to change the direction.

When he got to the same height as the others, Callum realised he must have looked ridiculous.

‘Why do you wanna know how to fly?’ Gren asked, floating over to Callum. ‘Do you want to play Quidditch or just because you thought it looks fun or what?’

The fourth year nearly fell off his broom.

_ Why do you wanna know how to fly _ was a question that he didn’t really want to answer in front of the most popular people in the whole damn school.

Especially Soren, given that the reason he wanted to learn how to fly was one of the Slytherin’s teammates.

Rayla had transferred to Hogwarts along with her uncle, Runaan, the new Charms professor. She’d been through the sorting process and wound up in Slytherin, and pretty quickly made it onto the Quidditch team given that she could fly like a dragon.

Rayla also happened to be his Potions partner.

And the girl who owned his entire heart. And soul. And also his quill, he needed to get that back at some point.

The Ravenclaw girls gossiped about Rayla in the common room. Something about her being part Veela. How that invalidated any of the feelings the boys had for her. Callum didn’t really think she was part Veela, but if she was it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like that had anything to do with how he felt about her.

No, he liked her because she was smart, and funny, and sarcastic, and most importantly she didn’t think he was weird or lame.

Instead of answering Gren like a normal person, Callum just sighed a wistful sigh.

‘Alrighty,’ the Keeper said with a thumbs up, backing the broom away slowly. ‘Well you haven’t fallen off yet so you can’t be as bad as Soren said you were.’

‘Just you wait,’ Callum said with a nervous laugh. ‘I nearly went to Mars last time.’

‘It’s true,’ Soren added, scooping up the quaffle from the ground. ‘I had to save him. It was very heroic.’

‘So heroic,’ Callum agreed with a roll of his eyes.

The blonde quirked an eyebrow and tossed the quaffle lightly at Callum. He squeaked and hunkered down on the broom to avoid getting hit anywhere vital. The broom jerked forward and the quaffle bounced off his shoulder and fell to the grass below.

‘Oh boy,’ Corvus said, scratching the stubble on his chin. ‘One-armed laps. Go.’

Callum looked at Soren, then Gren. ‘What do you mean, one-armed laps? How can I do a one-armed lap?’

‘Do you see us holding the broom with two hands while we play?’ Corvus asked.

Callum thought back to the last Quidditch game he actually saw; Chasers obviously only played with one hand, since the other was needed to pass the quaffle back and forth; Beaters held a bat for the whole game, and the Keepers had to defend the goals but at least they could use the broom to help; Seekers were freaks and he definitely didn’t want to be one.

‘Okay, fair,’ Callum conceded. ‘How do I do it?’

Each of the older players took turns babysitting him as he did laps, sometimes with both hands on the broom and sometimes with only one. He found that even the crappy Comet 220 underneath him was nicely balanced, and that he wasn’t going to slide off one side.

Gren explained the mechanics of the broom itself as they went around, telling him that the broom would keep him on as long as he wanted to be there. Corvus had told him that he needed to trust the broom, and think of it as an extension of himself, which felt a little like he’d pinched the cliché advice from somewhere.

Soren spent all of his babysitting laps talking about things that weren’t important, like himself, but Callum realised that he was able to engage in conversation without worrying about the broom too much. Whether that was Soren’s intention or not, Callum had no idea.

#

‘Are you coming to the game on Saturday?’

Callum’s knife slipped and he cut his finger, and the slimy bat tongue he was slicing up rolled off the table and onto the floor.

Rayla laughed. ‘What’re you doing you dummy? The ingredient list says nothing about Ravenclaw blood.’

‘Sorry, it just slipped,’ Callum muttered, wiping it on his robes. ‘What did you say?’

‘I asked if you were gonna come and watch the game this weekend?’ Rayla repeated.

She looked lovely today, her white hair pulled back into a half-ponytail and tied with a green Slytherin ribbon. Her cloak had been thrown haphazardly over the back of her chair - which he didn’t understand because the dungeons were always freezing – and her tie was wonky from her tugging on it every five seconds.

‘Yeah of course. You’re playing us, right?’

‘Yep,’ Rayla grinned, ignoring the eel spleens on the scale for a moment. ‘Soren says it’s gonna be the easiest match of the year.’

‘Soren’s a jerk,’ Callum pointed out, helping himself to another bat tongue.

‘That doesn’t  _ sound  _ like Potions chatter, Callum,’ the Potions professor said with a disapproving look as he passed.

Callum winced. ‘Sorry Professor Viren.’

Professor Viren stepped on the bat tongue with a squelch, and Callum lost five points for being careless.

#

The Slytherin – Ravenclaw game was the first game Callum had been to since starting flying lessons with Soren, and he’d promised himself that he’d pay attention.

He wiggled through the stands, apologising to people as he passed, until he found them.

‘Callum!’ Ezran called, waving a hand. He was in a thick winter cloak and black gloves, and had the Ravenclaw blue and bronze painted on his cheeks despite the yellow and black of his scarf tucked into the cloak.

‘Hey Ez, hey Ellis!’ he added for the Gryffindor on the other side of his brother.

‘Hi Callum!’ she said.

They were both painted in Ravenclaw colours, whereas Callum only had his scarf. He didn’t actually care if Ravenclaw won or lost, he just wanted to watch Rayla fly. The Slytherin team marched onto the pitch first and did a few laps, waving at people in the crowd.

Rayla found him pretty quickly and mimed a finger across her throat; she didn’t mean it though, since she had a big grin on her face.

Callum rolled his eyes and mouthed ‘good luck’ to her.

Soren apparently caught the exchange, given the smug grin on his face.

Before anything else could happen the Ravenclaw team joined the Slytherins on the pitch, led by the fifth year, Marcos.

They were a shamble of a team; everyone knew it. Most of them had never played for the team before, since the previous year’s team was made up mostly of seventh years and sixth years. Half of them had graduated, and the other half hadn’t tried out this year so they could focus on their NEWTs.

Marcos had been the only player who remained from the old team, and he was a damn good beater. Everyone else? Learning to play together for the first time.

And with teams like Slytherin who had made very minor changes over the years, there was a snowball’s chance in hell that they’d win.

Still, Callum had to cheer for them, or risk getting hexed in the common room.

Predictably, the moment the quaffle was in the air the Slytherin chasers snatched it up and took off down the pitch. Rayla and Soren weaved in and out of their own teammates and the opposing Ravenclaws, lightly throwing the quaffle back and forth.

Rayla managed a tight barrel roll to avoid having it punched out of her hands by a Ravenclaw Chaser, dropped it into the hands of the third Slytherin Chaser who sped off down the pitch and put the quaffle neatly through the hoop almost unimpeded.

And so the match continued along that track. Ravenclaw put up a fight, but Slytherin were moving through them like a hot knife through butter. The snake’s chaser team was unparalleled at Hogwarts; and with his new appreciation of the sport, Callum couldn’t help but be impressed.

About 30 minutes into the match, the scores were 80-30 Slytherin’s way. It was getting a little boring now; if Ravenclaw put up more of a fight he could see how the game would be interesting, but he was just watching Rayla score goal after goal.

‘Oh no,’ Ezran said, gripping the collar of his scarf. ‘Look!’

The two Seekers had dropped into a dive, right through a pack of chasers making their way down the field.

‘They’re gonna crash,’ Callum said, gripping his hair.

The whole stadium had jumped to their feet, stamping and cheering and waving scarves.

The Seekers split off to get around the pack, but one of the Slytherin chasers had ducked under the group. The sound of magical wood splintering filled the grounds, and the referee’s whistle sounded.

Two students were on the grass, one from each team, their robes askew and their brooms in pieces. The rest of the players hit the ground running to check on their teammates, the game abandoned.

Headmaster Aaravos conjured a tent with a flick of his wand and asked for teachers to begin escorting students back into the castle.

Soren’s words echoed in Callum’s mind as he shuffled out of the stadium with Ezran and Ellis.

_ You know that Quidditch is fast and dangerous and stuff, right? And that the aim is to win, not to die? _

#

Rayla found Callum in the library later that day; she’d showered and changed into comfortable clothes for the weekend, but she looked exhausted.

‘How are they?’ he asked, getting to his feet.

‘They’re gonna be fine,’ she said tiredly. ‘Sheedy broke his shoulder when your seeker crashed into him, and the seeker cracked a hip and a few ribs or something like that. She doesn’t want to play again.’

‘Oh my god,’ Callum said, sitting down again, his transfiguration essay forgotten.

‘Professor Aaravos says we won the game by default but it’s not a good way to win,’ she huffed, sitting beside him and leaning into him.

Callum’s heart rate definitely picked up. She smelled like shampoo and clothes that lived in her trunk.

‘How’s your essay going anyway?’

‘Why I’ll ever need to know how to turn a hedgehog into a pincushion I have no idea,’ Callum grumbled.

‘Right?’ Rayla said, leaning forward to read what he’d written. ‘You spelled hedgehog wrong.’

Callum corrected his mistake with messy scratches of his quill while Rayla plaited a little section of her hair.

‘So, your Seeker doesn’t want to play anymore,’ she said, focusing on twisting the strands together. ‘Does that mean you’re gonna try out for the team now the position is open? You can play Seeker, right?’

‘Huh?’

‘Quidditch,’ Rayla said with a laugh. ‘The Ravenclaw team has a spot open. Are you gonna try out?’

‘Oh, uh. I dunno,’ he said, leaning back. ‘I don’t uh… I don’t think you could handle having me out there on the ground with you.’

‘On the pitch?’

‘Yeah. The pitch. I’m just too good.’

Rayla gave him a mischievous smirk. ‘I’m sure you won’t mind me coming along to watch the try outs then,’ she said in a teasing tone. ‘You know, stake out the competition.’

Callum swallowed. ‘Yeah, no, that’s fine. It’s a public try out, so… sure. Come on down.’

The minute she’d left him alone to finish his essay, Callum scribbled a note on a spare bit of parchment, folded it into the shape of a bird and charmed it to seek out Soren. It saved him from having to go all the way to the Owlery.

#

He raced down to the Quidditch pitch after dinner, hoping that Soren had gotten the message.

The Big Three were waiting for him, again looking like they were going to drop a hot new album for the Quidditch world.

But for some reason they didn’t look too happy to see him.

‘So just a quick reminder,’ Soren called, his arms crossed. ‘Why were you wanting to learn to fly again?’

‘What?’ Callum asked, out of breath. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Yes,’ Corvus said in his deep deadpan.

‘It matters,’ Soren interrupted. ‘If you’re trying prove to a  _ girl  _ that you’re good at Quidditch to impress her.’

Callum’s stomach fell into his butt. ‘W-what?’ he said with a nervous laugh. ‘I wouldn’t …. I mean… I don’t really… know what you’re uh, talking about.’

‘Soren’s concerned that you’re trying to distract his star Chaser,’ Gren pointed out. ‘Me and Corvus are concerned that you’re not being honest with Rayla and just telling her that you suck at Quidditch and made it up because you like her.’

‘I’m also concerned that you’re lying to her,’ Soren added, nodding his head. ‘So fess up.’

Callum buckled. ‘Okay fine,’ he said, dropping his broom onto the grass. ‘I told Rayla I really like Quidditch and I wanted to get better at it so that maybe next year I could try out for the team.’

Gren and Corvus came to stand on either side of Soren.

For Callum though it was like floodgates. He just couldn’t stop talking. ‘And I thought it would be fine because I can get better in a year but Ashley isn’t going to play again after today because she got hurt so bad and her broom got smashed and now Ravenclaw is opening up try-outs again and I don’t have an excuse to not go.’

‘Okay but being a Seeker is one of the hardest positions in the sport,’ Corvus said. ‘You need to keep your eyes out for something invisible, and you need to be able to react quickly. You’re little, so you have the build, but Callum what happened today could happen in  _ any  _ game.’

‘Are you willing to risk your health to get a girl to like you?’ Gren asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘Yes,’ Callum replied, petulant.

‘Wrong,’ Soren interrupted.

‘Oh come on,’ Callum grumbled. ‘The only reason  _ anyone  _ joins Quidditch is to get girls.’

The three experienced players exchanged an amused glance between them.

‘As if you don’t,’ Callum pressed.

‘ _ Anyway _ ,’ Gren pressed. ‘We’re not gonna keep this nonsense up unless you tell Rayla the truth.’

‘But I  _ do _ like Quidditch!’ the fourth year protested. ‘I’m getting better! I did one-armed laps!’

‘But can you dive at the ground after a tiny red ball with other players in the way?’ Soren asked. ‘No, you can’t, Callum. And it’s not something you just learn in a few hours!’

‘Make me learn faster!’ Callum pleaded. ‘I’ll do training like you do with your teams. You’re three of the best players Hogwarts has seen in years. Corvus you literally got asked to join the Kestrals last week.’

‘We’ll need to discuss this as a group,’ Soren said, lifting his chin. ‘Meanwhile, you do one-armed laps until we’ve made a decision.’

‘Yes,’ Callum said, shrugging out of his jacket and climbing onto his broom. ‘Yeah, okay. I’ll do one-armed laps.’

He rose into the air a little faster than he was used to and started doing laps with one hand extended. After a few laps he changed arms. After a few more he looked down and realised that the three of them had ditched him on the grounds.

As Callum’s mood deflated the broom sunk to the ground. He sat on the grass for a bit, then realised the lights were still on. He might as well practice on his own.

Kicking off again, Callum felt a little shaky but better than he had the first night. Instead of doing the stupid one-armed laps he focused on practicing his broom control. He did zigzags and sharp turns and slowly, very slowly, increased his speed.

He practiced stopping suddenly and even managed to pull out of a little dive.

After forty minutes he was exhausted and dropped to the grass. His knees wobbled as he walked back to the exit, only to find two burly sixth years and a seventh year watching from the stands.

‘Not bad,’ Gren said with a nod.

‘Could be better,’ Corvus agreed.

‘Be back here tomorrow night,’ Soren added with a wink.

Callum grinned, energy racing back through his limbs, and he ran back to the castle for a well-deserved shower.

#

The Ravenclaw Quidditch Team try-outs were a sad affair. Most of the other teams were in the stands, as well as the friends of those trying out. Ezran was sitting with Soren and the other captains, discussing things with the Slytherin Chaser.

He’d spent all morning voicing his concerns and ended up borrowing a whole plate of jelly tarts from the kitchens, stress eating them in the stands.

Callum was on the pitch, jumping up and down to burn off some of the nervous energy that bubbled underneath his skin. He recognised all the others trying out, a few from his year, a few from the older levels and one girl in her second year, Aanya.

She looked calm and collected, a shiny black Nimbus 2001 over her shoulder and her hair braided back off her face.

‘Hey,’ Callum said quietly. ‘Good luck!’

She looked him up and down with a blank expression. ‘You too,’ she said finally. Callum had the distinct feeling that what she really meant was  _ you’re gonna need it _ .

‘Okay!’ the captain called, dressed in his bright blue robes. ‘I’m Marcos, the Ravenclaw Captain. Thank you for coming to the try-outs, since Ashley isn’t playing with us since her accident. We’re currently looking for someone to fill the position of Seeker, and only the Seeker. Understood?’

There was a mumble of acknowledgement from the small group of people trying out. The rest of the team stood behind Marcos with a huge bucket of golf balls. Marcos himself was a Beater, so he was one of the biggest and most intimidating on the team.

‘I know our team isn’t really doing too well this year,’ Marcos said with a sigh. ‘You’re probably joining a losing team, but that’s okay. We have time to work together and get better. We’re going to start with a few laps in groups, test your speed. Then we’ll go from there.’

The flyers were split into groups of three and told to do three laps as fast as possible. Callum was put in the last group with Aanya and another fourth year, and they were going last. Every time a group landed, Marcos thanked one of them and sent them on their way.

When it was his turn, Callum kicked off the ground and rose a little slower than Aanya. They hovered together with the other fourth year, and Callum shook out his hands. In the stands, Rayla was cheering him on, waving her Slytherin scarf. Ezran was beside her, also cheering.

Soren, Corvus and Gren were all leaning forward and paying attention a little more than they had before.

‘Don’t fall off,’ Aanya said with a smirk.

Marcos blew the whistle and Callum leaned forward on the broom. Aanya shot ahead of the other two since her broom was clearly superior, but Callum stayed hot on her tail with the third in their group beside him.

Trying to remember what Soren and the others had drilled into his head, Callum kept his body low on the handle of the broom and tucked his knees in close. He hadn’t managed to reach this speed in practice yet, but now wasn’t the time to chicken out.

With a tiny wail, he urged the broom faster, rotating himself as the curve of the pitch came up. They zoomed past Rayla and Soren and everyone else in the crowd and he heard them urging him on.

When the three laps were over and he was safely back on solid ground, Callum’s hair was slightly windswept and Aanya couldn’t help but giggle at it, patting the top of his head.

‘You didn’t fall off,’ she said, a sparkle in her eyes.

‘Not this time,’ Callum said, breathless.

Marcos thanked the third flyer and dismissed him from the group, then brought the remaining players in close.

‘Well done, thanks guys. Next up we’re gonna test your catching skills. This is gonna take a while since it’s one-on-one, so get comfy. Feel free to go sit in the stands,’ he said.

Rayla helped Callum land his broom in the stands without hurting himself or anyone else. Ezran was immediately on his brother.

‘You did so good!’ he exclaimed. ‘I thought you were gonna die for sure.’

‘Whaat?’ Callum asked, ruffling his brother’s hair. ‘You know me better than that!’

‘No really,’ Ezran said, gripping the front of Callum’s shirt. ‘We thought you were gonna die. Dad came to watch just to make sure he was here for your final moments.’

The young Hufflepuff pointed to the teacher’s box, where Harrow sat with the Ravenclaw Head of House, Runaan. Rayla’s uncle.

Harrow gave him a cheery wave, his yellow and black scarf standing out against his black teaching robes.

‘Rayla,’ Soren called. ‘Stop fraternising with the enemy!’

Rayla poked out her tongue and ignored him. ‘Not bad for a nerd,’ she said to Callum, sitting down on the bench. ‘I thought you said you were the next Viktor Krum.’

‘Did I say that? That doesn’t sound like me,’ Callum replied, watching the first person try and catch as many golf balls as he could. The Ravenclaw team threw them all over the place, and Callum realised he may not get as far into the tryouts as he wanted to.

‘It definitely doesn’t sound like you,’ Soren added, causing a round of tittering from the other team members. ‘Still, you’re not as bad as we thought.’

In Soren speak, that basically meant that he’d smashed it.

Gren’s wink and Corvus’ thumbs up confirmed it.

Spectators slowly dwindled as people were thanked and dismissed, since Marcos was planning on discussing with the team and posting the official position in the Ravenclaw common room.

By the time Callum was called Ez had nearly fallen asleep and only the Captains of the other teams, and Rayla, remained.

Callum shook Marcos’ hand and took his spot on the grounds.

‘You just gotta catch them’ the Captain explained. ‘They’re charmed to turn blue when you’ve got an official catch and we’ll tally them up at the end.’

‘Got it,’ Callum said, readying himself.

He caught the first few when they were thrown to him, relishing in the feeling of them turning blue in his fingers before he let them fall to the ground, but then they got harder and faster.

By the time Marcos called stop, he was exhausted, bruised and a little humiliated. Rayla and Ezran escorted him to the Ravenclaw tower and left him to shower and sleep it off.

As the hot water eased the ache in his muscles, Callum repeated to himself over and over how it was all worth it.

How, at the end of all this rubbish, he’d be a Quidditch champion, and Rayla would be interested in dating him.

He smiled into the running water and shook the mental image from his mind. What was a few bruises when there was love on the line?

#

He didn’t make the team. Aanya was named one of the youngest seekers ever appointed to Ravenclaw house in its history, and if he was being completely honest with himself, Callum was relieved.

His body wasn’t built for Quidditch.

And maybe Rayla would like him anyway.

You know, for trying.

‘I’m sorry you didn’t get through,’ Rayla said, hunched over her essay.

‘I’m not,’ Soren added from another table, earning him a ‘shh’ from the librarian. ‘With you on the team, Ravenclaw wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of ever winning anything ever again.’

Callum scowled, but Rayla snorted.

#

‘So, Soren brought up something interesting,’ Rayla said to him, measuring out beetles eyes.

‘Really?’ Callum asked, stirring their bubbling potion. ‘Soren?’

Rayla chuckled, dropping the eyes in the cauldron and noting the reaction. ‘Yes, Soren.’

‘Didn’t think he had it in him,’ the Ravenclaw snickered.

Their potion bubbled until it turned black, which was a  _ few _ shades off the pale lilac it was supposed to be.

‘What did we do to it?’ Rayla moaned, poking at the substance with her spoon.

The spoon melted, and they decided to just wait for Professor Viren to come around and fail them instead of trying to save the potion. When were they ever going to need to learn how to make a potion that could clear snot anyway.

‘Anyway, what did Soren say?’

The dungeons were dark. He was also experiencing watery eyes from the bitter smoke from the cauldron beside him. So he couldn’t be sure – but it looked like Rayla was  _ blushing _ .

But that would be ridiculous.

Why would Rayla be  _ blushing _ ?

Callum’s stomach fell right into his butt. What the hell had Soren told her?

‘He just mentioned that you were thinking of skipping the Hogsmeade trip this weekend,’ she said, making notes on some parchment. Which was weird because Rayla never made notes.

‘Yeah,’ he replied, a tiny frown creasing his brow. ‘I mean… it’s gonna be cold and I don’t really  _ need  _ anything in the village so… yeah.’ 

Rayla busied herself with the notes she was taking; copying down the words on the board. ‘Well I was just wondering… hey....how many beetle eyes did we put in here?’ 

‘A cup, why?’ 

‘We needed two,’ Rayla groaned. ‘No wonder it’s all wrong.’ 

Callum started measuring out another cup of beetle eyes. ‘Maybe we can save it? And hey, what were you wondering?’ 

Just as he poured the cup into the sludgy potion, Rayla took a breath. 

‘Do you wanna go to Hogsmeade with me?’ she asked, like she was trying to be casual and failing at it. 

His heart skipped a few million beats. Is this what having a heart attack felt like? Was he dying? Had the fumes from the potion affected his brain so that he hallucinated?

‘Go to Hogsmeade with you?’ Callum asked, his arm frozen in midair over the cauldron. ‘Like a date?’

‘Only if you want to,’ Rayla said, finally looking up at him. 

Before he could answer, the cauldron exploded, covering them both with thick, black goo. Both Ravenclaw and Slytherin students screamed and scrambled away from their desk, and Professor Viren was over there in an instant. 

‘What happened?’ he demanded, clearing the mess from their skin and robes with a flick of his wand. 

‘It just exploded,’ Rayla said, looking down at her arm as it started to blister. 

‘I don’t know whether to send you to the infirmary or detention,’ Professor Viren hissed, examining the spots on her skin. Callum seemed to have avoided most of the splatter because he was still wearing his cloak, but there were a few small spots on his cheek and hand. 

In the end they both had to be taken to the infirmary, and the matron separated them quickly to examine the damage. 

The potion had caused feathers to start sprouting from Callum’s hair and neck. They were itchy and looked ridiculous, but he hadn’t gotten it anywhere near as bad as Rayla. 

She’d sprouted two curved horns from her head, and lost both of her pinkie fingers much to her horror. She’d been assured that everything would go back to normal, but that didn’t mean that she was horrendously embarrassed. 

‘Miss Rayla will  _ not  _ be going to Hogsmeade this weekend,’ the matron explained to Callum, who was slowly moulting his feathers for good. ‘You, however, are welcome to leave this afternoon I think.’ 

Disappointment settled in Callum’s stomach. Rayla was talking to her uncle, Professor Runaan, so he couldn’t go talk to her, and eventually he was dismissed from the hospital wing; featherless and concerned. 

Rayla found him in the library the following day. She still had horns, but she was also wearing a hoodie over her uniform. 

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, moving over so she could slide in next to him. 

‘I feel like an idiot,’ she muttered, reaching up to touch the pointed pieces of bone sticking out of her head. ‘Everyone keeps staring at me.’ 

‘They probably think you Veela’d out or something,’ Callum said, touching the points. ‘It’s kinda cool. You should keep them.’ 

She snorted. ‘Oh yeah, because I’m not weird enough.’

‘At least your fingers grew back,’ Callum said, holding her hand up to examine them. 

Rayla groaned. ‘I never thought I’d miss a couple of pinkos,’ she said, flexing her hands. ‘Now I have horns and I’m not allowed to leave the castle for the Hogsmeade trip.’ 

Callum felt himself go very still, her hand still in his. It would be easy to pretend he’d forgotten all about what she’d said before the cauldron exploded, but he’d be lying. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. 

‘Well… I wasn’t planning on going anyway,’ he started, and Rayla’s shoulders deflated a little. ‘Do you wanna just… stay here? Have a picnic?’ 

‘In the middle of winter?’ Rayla asked with a laugh, her eyes lighting up despite her question. 

‘Yes,’ Callum said with a nod. ‘We’re… we’re a witch and a wizard. Surely we can find some kind of spell to keep us warm.’ 

Rayla beamed at him. ‘That sounds perfect! Hogsmeade is always packed anyway.’ 

Callum nodded, and even though he knew he was blushing like crazy, he was  _ so  _ happy. 

#

The crowd screamed as the players raced past the edge of the pitch, robes whipping out behind them and their brooms weaving expertly in between each other. 

‘Go Rayla!’ Callum yelled, leaning so far over the edge of the stands that he was in danger of falling out. 

The Chaser handed the Quaffle to Soren, who threw it back a few seconds later. Together they zigzagged up and down the pitch and approached the goals. 

Gren was waiting for them, and the Slytherin crowd booed and hissed as the Hufflepuff Keeper blocked Soren’s attempt at goal and sent the Quaffle in the opposite direction. 

Whatever the Chaser yelled at the Keeper made Gren laugh, but the game resumed with just as much effort. 

Slytherin won with a dramatic dive for the Snitch, and he saw Rayla’s white hair as she crashed into the rest of her teammates as they landed on the pitch to celebrate. 

She sought him in the crowds, her face splitting into a happy grin when she caught his eye. 

He blew her a kiss, and she rolled her eyes. 

‘That’s my girlfriend,’ he said excitedly to the Hufflepuff beside him, who looked like they couldn’t really care less. 

‘You’re really gross,’ Ezran informed him. ‘It’s gross. I’m just being honest.’ 

‘I don’t care,’ Callum said with a smirk. 


	2. Sorgren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soren struggles with the Patronus Charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My bbies. I missed them.

Soren had a bad habit of chewing the end of his writing utensil. Which was fine if it had been one of those Muggle pens that Gren kept lending him, but today it was a quill and feathers just didn’t hold up the same as plastic. 

Since Defence Against the Dark Arts wasn’t one of his best subjects, he tended to zone out, and zoning out meant that he chewed his quill and didn’t take any notes. 

Luckily, Gren always wrote down everything and duplicated the parchment with a wave of his wand, so Soren had never failed while he had the Hufflepuff as a partner. 

‘Are you gonna sign up?’ Gren asked excitedly at the end of class, shoving his books into his bag haphazardly. 

‘For what?’

‘The extra credit class Professor Janai literally just told us about?’ the redhead deadpanned, gesturing to the front of the room where students were scribbling their names. 

Soren flashed him a cheesy grin. 

‘You weren’t listening were you?’

‘Not even a little bit, no.’

Gren rolled his head back with a groan. ‘It’s a Patronus Charm workshop. We’ll probably all fail the spell itself but if we go then we get a little bit of extra credit towards our final scores for DADA and Charms.’

Soren tapped his cheek thoughtfully with his wand. ‘So even if I fail, I get the points?’

‘Yes, but it’s on a weekend. Saturday and Sunday.’

Those were prime Quidditch practicing hours, Soren thought to himself, but then he was already a flawless Quidditch player. He was a less than flawless student who needed all the help he could get. 

‘If I sign up, will you help me?’ He asked slinging the bag over his shoulder.

‘Of course,’ Gren replied. ‘I always do,’

He really did. Always. 

And so Soren signed his name with a half-chewed, still slightly soggy quill. 

How hard could a Patronus be, anyway?

#

‘This charm is very difficult,’ Janai said to the group. ‘Which is why it is only offered to sixth and seventh years. We honestly don’t expect more than one or two of you to succeed.’

Soren spied his little sister at the front of the group, the only fifth year. It sucked having a  _ prodigy  _ in the family. 

‘The incantation is a simple one, as is the wand movement,’ Professor Runaan continued. He demonstrated the movement and Soren quickly joined the class in copying him. 

‘The trick to the spell is to think of a happy memory,’ Janai explained. ‘Your Patronus is like a guardian spirit. The happier your memory then the stronger it will be and the more effective it will be in protecting you.’

Soren paired off with Gren and got to work in practicing the swooping wand movement. Eventually the students started adding the words along with it, but Soren was stuck on a crucial detail. 

Did he have a memory happy enough to produce a corporeal Patronus? 

He settled for watching Gren screw up his face and think so hard he turned red, only really picking up his wand again when Professor Runaan came by to check on them. 

‘I know it sounds really sad but I can’t think of a happy memory,’ Soren confessed, twisting his wand around in his hands. 

‘It doesn’t necessarily have to be a  _ memory _ ,’ the professor explained. ‘Just a thought. I can picture a lovely evening with my husband, and even though this particular evening has never happened…  _ expecto patronum! _ ’

A proud silver eagle burst from the end of his wand, stopping all the students in the room as it did a lap before vanishing with a whisp of smoke. 

‘So we can just think of something that makes us happy?’ Gren confirmed. 

‘It has to be the right kind of happy, but yes.’

Soren watched Gren steel himself, then wave his wand and say the spell. The Hufflepuff nearly dropped his wand in fright when he produced a silvery mist; nothing corporeal but it was more than anyone else had managed. 

‘You did it!’ Soren said with a grin, jumping to his feet. ‘What did you think of?’

Runaan saved Gren from having to explain, telling the class that the thoughts they use might be personal. But if the shade of Gren’s face was anything to go by, it really only made Soren more curious. 

They broke off for lunch and Soren found himself accosted by his sister, while Gren wandered off to talk to Corvus. 

‘How’s it going?’ She asked excitedly, buttering herself some toast. ‘I’m so close, I can feel it.’

‘Well if anyone was going to show me up, it’s you,’ Soren snorted. 

‘Don’t be sad big brother,’ she crooned, patting his head. ‘You’ll always be better at Quidditch!’

Gren and Corvus reappeared, both looking like they shared a secret. 

‘Are you going to be the first to get it, Claudia?’ Corvus asked with a smirk curling at his lips. 

‘You bet your broomstick I am,’ she replied with a grin. 

Corvus was lucky that he didn’t bet his broomstick, because less than fifteen minutes after returning to the class, a regal silver wolf exploded from the end of Claudia’s wand. 

The class applauded politely, mostly irritated that they’d been beaten by the youngest participant of the workshop. 

‘What did you think about?’ Soren hissed at his sister once the commotion had died down. 

‘Being first,’ she said with a wink and a smug smile. ‘Just think of something you want and imagine yourself getting it.’

Well that was fucking cryptic. 

What did he want? He doubted patronuses just appeared because you suddenly had a craving for butterbeer. 

‘Think of what you want and imagine yourself getting it,’ Gren repeated. He gave Soren a quick glance, then waved his wand. 

‘Expecto patronum!’ 

Another burst of silver light, this time from the end of Gren’s wand; it found a shape almost instantly, and a happy coyote jumped around at their feet. 

As Gren let out a bark of surprised laughter, the Patronus seemed to glow. It wagged its tail and let it’s tongue loll out of its mouth. The Hufflepuff looked at Soren with a dazed expression, and Soren couldn’t help but grin in reply. 

‘Well done Gren,’ Professor Janai praised. ‘I knew you’d manage it.’

The coyote vanished after a moment and Gren let his wand arm fall to his side. 

‘Smarty-pants,’ Soren grinned, and the redhead just poked out his tongue in reply. 

‘What did you think of?’ the Slytherin pressed. 

‘It’s embarrassing,’ Gren laughed nervously. ‘I’ll tell you one day.’

The coyote and Claudia’s wolf made a few more appearances, as well as a huge black crow from a Ravenclaw named Cole and a tiny spider from one of the Gryffindors. 

Despite not actually caring about the workshop, Soren was frustrated. Mostly with the notion that he didn’t have a single happy memory to draw power from. 

The class ended with more frustrated students than happy ones, and Soren decided to take his broom for a spin to clear his head. 

A few loops around the pitch had Soren thinking about things that made him happy. 

Flying made him happy; the roar of a crowd when he scored a goal in Quidditch, or the pride in his chest when his team members did something amazing? Those made him very happy. 

He flicked his wand and thought of that feeling. 

Nothing. 

Being around his family made him happy. His dad and his sister. He didn’t even get halfway through the wand movement before he realised that wouldn’t work, since they were both too smart for him and often ignored him. 

Ugh, why was this so hard?

Studying didn’t make him happy, but hanging out with Gren and Corvus and sometimes Marcos and Cole? That made him kinda happy. 

‘ _ Expecto patronum! _ ’ 

A pathetic little silver whisp. 

He threw his wand on the pitch in irritation. 

‘Don’t let it get to you,’ called Gren, strolling onto the pitch with his broom over his shoulder. 

‘It’s not,’ Soren lied, picking up his wand. ‘I just thought a little practice wouldn’t hurt.’

Gren dropped his broom in the grass and pulled his wand from his sleeve. 

‘Expecto patronum,’ he called, and the coyote leapt from the tip once more, sniffing around the green of the pitch. 

‘Show off,’ Soren grumbled, sitting on the grass. ‘I just can’t think of anything to make the damn thing appear.’ 

Gren flopped onto the grass beside him and the coyote amused itself by chasing its tail around in circles. 

‘Is it really so bad? What you think of when you cast the spell?’ Soren asked, aware that his tone had taken on a whiny quality. If Gren could give him an idea of what to imagine it would make everything so much easier. 

‘It’s not that it’s bad… just… private. Embarrassing,’ Gren said, hugging his knees. ‘If I told you, you’d laugh at me.’

‘When have I ever laughed at you?’

‘Literally every other day.’

‘When it’s  _ important _ ,’ Soren huffed. 

Gren chewed his lip, like he was considering telling Soren but something held him back. ‘Why’s it so important that you get this?’

‘Because it’s shitty not being able to think of a happy memory,’ Soren snapped, a little harsher than intended. ‘And Claudia got it so easily and it’ll get back to my dad that I couldn’t even make the misty stuff.’

Gren stared at him for a moment then got to his feet. He offered Soren a hand. 

‘Come on, up you get,’ he demanded. 

Soren let himself be dragged to his feet with a groan. ‘Why?’

‘I’m going to tell you what I think about when I cast the stupid Patronus,’ Gren mumbled, looking like he very much didn’t want to tell Soren what he thought about when he cast the stupid Patronus. 

He made sure Soren was standing in just the right way; legs shoulder width apart, hands by his sides with his wand loosely in one. 

‘Okay, um… so just close your eyes…’

Soren did as he was told. 

Gren breathed out through his nose, and Soren could sense that he was close to him. 

‘Okay so I usually start by just clearing my mind…’

‘I swear to god man, if you make me do like yoga or something I’m gonna be real shitty-‘

‘Just shut up and let me tell you,’ Gren growled, and Soren did as he was told. ‘Like I said it’s kinda personal, so you can’t… laugh at me.’

‘I promise I won’t laugh at you,’ Soren said, crossing his heart for added effect. 

‘Okay, okay so I just imagine being out here… and it’s just like it is now… nice and refreshing and the lights are on and there’s no one around, really…’

Soren pictured the scene in his mind’s eye, which wasn’t very hard since he’d just been looking at the exact scene Gren was describing. 

‘And then we just…’ 

Soren could hear Gren stepping closer, and he could feel his friend’s cool breath on his face. Then, ever so lightly, the blonde felt the slightest brush of lips against his. 

While static electricity coursing over his skin, Soren stood still on the pitch as Gren pressed a chaste, sweet kiss against his lips. 

His eyes fluttered open and he looked up at the taller boy, his mind strangely blank as his heart raced. 

Gren’s blue eyes bored into his for a moment longer before he broke off the kiss, his face going red and a shy smile curving at his mouth. 

Soren stared at him until the smile fell away and was replaced with nervousness. He wanted to tell Gren not to be nervous; to do it again, but all the words died on his tongue. 

‘I seem to have made a huge mistake, I’m so sorry,’ Gren said, bending to pick up his broomstick. ‘Don’t stay out here too late, okay bye!’

Soren’s voice only came back to him as the redhead vanished from the pitch. 

So… when Gren thought of something that made him happy… he thought of kissing Soren?

The realisation hit him like a bludger to the ribs. 

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Gren liked him. 

Gren liked him enough that even the thought of sharing a kiss was his  _ happiest thought.  _

A sudden thrill bloomed in Soren’s chest, and he let out a laugh. Gren  _ liked  _ him. Gren wanted to  _ kiss  _ him. 

‘Expecto patronum,’ Soren whispered, flicking his wand. A big silver animal burst from the end of his wand, looking over its shoulder at him. 

It vanished with a coy look, turning to mist then disappearing. 

Soren let out a whoop, his heart racing and his breath coming in short gasps. He’d produced a patronus, he’d been kissed by Gren, and his sister wasn’t going to overshadow him for once. 

Of course there was the small matter of Gren thinking that Soren hated him and didn’t want to be anywhere near him. But that could be fixed, surely. 

He slung his broom over his shoulder and walked off the pitch with a skip in his step. He had to talk to Gren, but the redhead would be locked deep in the Hufflepuff dorms, probably with his face buried in his pillows, or practicing curses to hit him with the next time they saw each other. 

Soren skipped a shower and pulled the green curtains around his bed for some privacy, adding a simple sound barrier charm to make sure no one else could hear him. 

Tucked in his nightstand was a little mirror, that he tapped three times with his wand. 

‘Corvus?’ he whispered. ‘Answer me!’ 

‘You’re so needy,’ came Corvus’ voice. ‘Can’t you do your own homework for once?’

‘Does Gren like me?’ Soren blurted, holding the mirror up to his face. 

On the glass, the Gryffindor frowned in confusion. ‘Hang on,’ he said, and Soren watched him close his curtains and silence them. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘The fact that he  _ kissed  _ me, on the Quidditch pitch this evening?’ Soren said, leaning back in his pillows. 

‘I’d say that’s a pretty good indication,’ Corvus nodded, chewing his lip. ‘What did you do?’ 

‘Froze, like an idiot,’ Soren sighed. ‘He ran off before I could say anything.’ 

‘Hah,’ the Gryffindor laughed, rubbing his jaw. ‘That’s gonna be racing through his brain. You’ve probably killed the poor bastard.’ 

Soren rolled onto his stomach. ‘He’s going to think I don’t want him to kiss me and I very much want him to kiss me.’ 

‘No you don’t,’ Corvus said quickly. ‘I bet Cole that the two of you would be dancing around each other well into next year because you’re both idiots.’ 

The Slytherin scowled. ‘Have you been  _ betting  _ on our love life?’

‘Not really, since you don’t have one yet,’ Corvus grinned. ‘Have you called Gren to tell him you don’t hate him?’

‘No, I just called you.’ 

‘Please hang up and call him because he’s probably freaking out.’ 

Soren vanished Corvus’ face from the mirror with a slightly nasty wave of his wand. He wasn’t really mad; he’d been betting on Callum’s moves on Rayla so he wasn’t really in any position to complain. 

He tapped the mirror again to call Gren, but the Hufflepuff ignored every attempt. In the end, Soren had to settle with sending the redhead a letter via owl before tucking himself under his blankets and going to sleep. 

#

Gren didn’t end up going to breakfast, and he didn’t get any reply when the post came, so Soren just picked at his bacon and sulked. 

Claudia walked beside him to the second part of the workshop, chattering about how she’d practiced all night and now her patronus was much brighter and how she could hold it for even longer now.

‘Don’t worry Sor-Sor, you’ll get it eventually!’ she chirped, patting his shoulder. 

‘Oh, I got it last night,’ he replied dismissively, chewing a thumbnail. ‘But Gren’s not talking to me and I don’t know how to make him to talk to me again.’ 

Talk, amongst other things. 

‘Wait, you cast a patronus?’ Claudia grabbed his arm to stop him from walking. ‘That’s amazing! What is it?’ 

‘A surprise,’ he grinned, never one to pass up an opportunity to tease his sister, even when he was miserable. 

Claudia pestered him right up until they walked inside the classroom, where her teachers-pet nature took over and she promptly shut up. 

Gren was sitting on the other side of Corvus, who just shrugged when Soren caught his eye. He settled down next to Marcos, twirling his wand between his fingers. 

‘Welcome back,’ Runaan said, arms crossed. ‘Just to refresh, we’re going to go over the wand movement and the incantation once again, then we’ll have the few who were successful yesterday give it another shot.’ 

Soren leaned back in his chair and caught Gren’s eye, but the redhead quickly looked away. He seemed just as miserable as Soren felt, a hunch that proved to be correct when he failed to produce his patronus when asked. 

‘It’s difficult magic, Gren, don’t chew yourself up over it,’ Janai said kindly. ‘Everyone partner up and get working, and Professor Runaan and myself will come around and check your progress.’ 

Soren waved his wand around and was able to produce mist after mist, but the ethereal creature from the previous night eluded him. By the time Janai called for a break, he was frustrated to the point of snapping his wand and going to live with the muggles. 

As he made his way down the corridor, Soren felt someone grab the collar of his shirt and drag him backwards. 

‘Merlin’s beard, Corvus, is this necessary?’ he growled, stumbling. 

‘Yes,’ Corvus replied with a sigh, shoving him into an abandoned classroom. ‘Work it out. I’ll be back in twenty.’ 

Soren turned around to see Gren looking just as flustered. 

‘This was not my idea,’ Soren started, and Gren rolled his eyes. 

‘Of course it wasn’t.’ The redhead sat on one of the desks. ‘Sorry, this is all my fault.’ 

Soren sauntered over to his friend and sat on the desk opposite him. ‘Because you kissed me.’ 

‘Yes... now let’s just… never mention it again,’ Gren muttered, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. ‘We’ll just pretend it never happened, and go on with our lives,  _ hopefully  _ with our friendship intact.’

The blonde stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Nah. I think we need to talk about this in detail. Mostly because of the whole patronus thing.’ 

Gren’s head fell back and he let out a groan. ‘Why do you hate me?’

‘I don’t  _ hate  _ you,’ Soren muttered, sliding off the desk. ‘You’re one of my best friends, and apparently I’m… more than that, for you.’

‘Whatever gave you that idea,’ Gren deadpanned, levelling him with a look that would stop a troll in its tracks. 

‘The happy thought you used to conjure your patronus was  _ kissing me on the Quidditch pitch, _ ’ Soren said, running a hand through his hair. 

‘We said we weren’t going to talk about that remember.’

‘And then you  _ left  _ me there, to think and work it all out on my own,’ the Slytherin continued, ignoring the grimace on Gren’s face. ‘And I even got the stupid patronus and you missed it because you ran off.’ 

‘You didn’t say anything!’ Gren countered, holding a hand out. ‘I’d just sprung a random kiss on you while you were struggling with a spell, in a totally public place without even asking you, and then you didn’t say anything at all. You just stared at me. I was terrified!’

Soren took a moment to breathe and really look at Gren. He was sitting on the desk, one hand in his lap and his toes lightly touching the floor. Since it was the weekend, he didn’t have to wear his uniform, instead dressed in jeans and a baggy hoodie with his quidditch team - the Falcons - splashed across the front. 

Upon closer inspection, Gren’s fingers were toying with the hem of his sleeve, his foot was wiggling back and forth. He was  _ nervous _ . 

‘I know it was a dick move, but you looked really upset and I just… I dunno. Wanted to help.’ Gren met his eyes, a flash of determination on his face. 

Soren’s heart sank. 

‘We need to go back to the workshop,’ the redhead muttered, standing up. 

‘No, wait,’ Soren said, taking a step to stop his friend from leaving. ‘Do you like me? As more than a friend?’ 

‘Not if you don’t want me to,’ Gren replied, guarded and wary. 

‘I’m going to kiss you,’ the blonde said. ‘Is that okay with you?’

Gren hesitated. ‘I… don’t know.’ 

A knock at the door interrupted them. ‘Are you done? We’re meant to be starting in like two minutes.’ 

Soren let out a breath. ‘Coming,’ he called, never breaking eye contact. Then he stepped aside to let Gren pass. ‘Sorry. I won’t bother you about it again.’ 

To his dismay, the Hufflepuff rushed past him, and slipped out of the classroom. 

‘No dice?’ Corvus asked, poking his head in the door. 

‘No dice,’ Soren sighed. ‘He hates me now.’ 

Corvus rolled his eyes. ‘He doesn’t hate you. He’s worried he’s wrecked everything. Once he knows that he hasn’t, then it’ll all go back to normal. Now get your ass into the workshop so you can get extra credit and pass the year.’ 

Even though friendships were usually restricted to members of the house you were assigned to, Soren had been friends with the other Captains well before they were on the Quidditch team. Gren had been his first-year charms partner. They’d bonded over quidditch and practiced on the crappy school brooms on weekends, watching team training sessions and laughing during try-outs. 

Corvus had been the most impressive player on the Gryffindor team,  _ and  _ he’d made the team in his first year. Gren and Soren had obviously sought him out and annoyed him into being their friend. 

Soren liked their little group of inter-house unity. And now he’d gone and broken it. 

‘Okay, we’re going to keep at this for a few more hours. You’re all doing remarkably well and we’ve had a few successes, which is marvelous,’ Runaan said, his robe sleeves shoved up to the elbows. 

Soren shucked his jacket and ran his hands through his hair. 

‘You wanna go first?’ Cole asked.

‘Nope, you got it yesterday, so I think you’ll get it again,’ Soren replied, falling into his chair. ‘I’m not really feeling it anyway.’

‘Yeah, you look like shit.’ The Ravenclaw was unsympathetic. He waved his wand and produced the familiar silvery mist. ‘Who pissed in your cauldron?’ 

‘Ha ha,’ Soren grumbled, scratching at a flaw on his wand handle. ‘Just shut up and make your happy bird.’ 

As if to prove the Slytherin wrong, Cole produced a full corporeal crow patronus with a smug grin. 

Time ticked by and Soren had had enough of patronuses and happy memories. Janai had tried to convince him to attempt the spell a few times, but nothing more than a light fog came from his wand tip. 

‘You can do better than this, Soren. You’re in a mood,’ she said, crossing her arms. 

‘I tried, didn’t I?’

‘Not hard enough,’ Janai replied. Other students had stopped to watch the interaction, and Gren shot him a sympathetic glance. ‘Try again.’ 

‘If I get the spell on the next try, do I get the extra credit and I can leave?’ Soren asked, sitting up in his chair. 

‘I would say that’s a fair deal,’ she told him, offering him a space in the centre of the room. 

‘Fine,’ the Slytherin snapped, getting to his feet. How hard could it be? He’d done it once before, surely he could do it again. 

He waved his wand and said the incantation. ‘ _ Expecto patronum _ .’ 

Mist. 

‘Focus on your memory,’ Janai reminded him, not unkindly. ‘You’re distracted.’

‘ _ Expecto patronum, _ ’ he hissed. 

‘Focus,’ Janai repeated. 

‘You can do it Soren,’ Gren called from the other side of the room. 

Soren squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember what it felt like when Gren had kissed him on the Quidditch pitch. 

‘ _ Expecto patronum _ ,’ he cried. His wand recoiled with the force of the patronus exploding from the end, and the room lit up in its celestial glow. 

‘Well done,’ Janai said, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

The stallion cantered around the room once, tossing its head and kicking its back legs up happily before it came to stop in front of its owner. Soren reached out to pet its nose, only to have his fingers disintegrate the charm upon touch. It sent a shiver up his arm. 

‘Can I leave now, please?’ Soren asked, sounding a little more desperate than he’d wanted. He barely waited for the professor to answer before he shoved his wand back into his pocket and disappeared from the classroom. 

#

As predictable as it was, Soren found himself back on the Quidditch pitch. A group of Ravenclaw third years were in the air, tossing a quaffle back and forth, so the sixth year found a spot in the stands to sit and watch. 

‘So,’ came a voice, after he’d been sitting down for an hour or so. ‘A horse, huh?’

‘Yep,’ Soren said, shuffling over so Gren could sit beside him. ‘A horse.’

‘What did you think about when you conjured said horse?’

A tiny smile tugged at the blonde’s lips. ‘It’s private,’ he replied, teasing. ‘Embarrassing, even.’

Gren sighed heavily. ‘Try me.’

He waited a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. Then, he smiled. 

‘I just imagine being out here… in the middle of the pitch, in the evening… nice and refreshing and the lights are on and there’s no one around but you and me…’

Gren sucked in a breath through his teeth.

‘And then we just…’ Soren trailed off, waving his wand lazily. His stallion leapt from the end of his wand again, eyeing them both with wise eyes. 

‘And then we just,’ Gren repeated. ‘That easy, huh?’

‘That easy,’ Soren said, dismissing his patronus with a flick of his wand. 

‘Will it be that easy?’ Gren asked, leaning forward so that he could look at the blonde. 

‘I mean, I’m not going to go easy on you in Quidditch,’ Soren sniffed. 

‘Oh I’ve been going easy on you for years.’ Gren shot him a cheeky grin. 

Soren twisted so that he could face the Hufflepuff, flinging a leg over the bench. ‘Gren it is painfully obvious that you like me and it’s now even more obvious that I like you, and I think that ignoring these feelings will only hurt us both in the long run.’ 

Gren smiled brightly. ‘How long have you been practicing that spiel?’

‘How long have I been out here?’

‘I think I’m okay with that kiss you were offering before… if it’s still on the table.’

Soren looked at him for a moment; his handsome, hopeful face. He looked happy again - much better than he did earlier in the workshop. 

‘What if it’s not on the table-’

‘Soren, you and I both know where this is going so let’s just speed it up and get there already,’ the Hufflepuff growled. 

Soren laughed right up until the moment Gren kissed him for a second time. 

This time, no one ran away. 

#

‘ _ Hogwarts, put your hands together and wave those scarves for the Slytherin Quidditch team! _ ’ 

As the fans roared, Soren led his team onto the pitch and stopped in the middle. Their keeper floated away towards the goals, and Rayla hovered off to his left. They waved at the screaming student body, and Rayla winked at Callum hanging over the edge of the barrier to get her attention. 

‘Your boyfriend seems a bit desperate,’ Soren snickered, and Rayla flicked up her middle finger. 

‘Not as desperate as Gren’s,’ she countered, and he poked his tongue out in response. 

‘ _ And please welcome the Hufflepuff team! _ ’ 

Gren led the yellow and black team onto the pitch, waving wildly. He met Soren in the middle, as it was customary for Captains to shake hands before the game began. 

‘Scared?’ Soren asked, offering his hand. 

‘Of you?’ Gren snorted. ‘Hardly.’

‘ _ In case you weren’t aware folks, these two Captains have recently started dating, so this game gives them the chance to win back valuable points lost through various trysts in broom cupboards! _ ’ 

The stadium erupted in giggles and laughter, and Gren’s face turned redder than the Gryffindor house banners. 

Soren could just see Corvus standing beside the announcer with a wide grin on his face. 

‘What a bastard,’ Gren muttered, readjusting his gloves. 

‘I think a Howler is in order,’ Soren mused. 

‘Have a good game,’ Gren called as he floated away towards the hoops. ‘But not too good.’ 

‘Gren, I always have a good game. I’m almost as good at Quidditch as I am at making out.’ 

‘We’re in for an easy win, then,’ Gren laughed. 

Soren chuckled in response, and took his position at the point of the Slytherin Chasers. 

‘See, you’re as bad as Callum,’ Rayla teased. 

‘You take that back,’ the sixth year grumbled. ‘I was never that bad.’ 

She just shrugged, and the whistle sounded. 

For now, Gren was his enemy first, and his partner second. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Remember to come yell with me on tumblr @aaravosed, or on twitter/instagram (all other socials are on my tumblr!)
> 
> If you have any Hogwarts AU requests just yeet them my way and I'll see what I can do!  
Leave a review if you enjoyed it, or if you didn't, and uhhhh Netflix #GiveUsTheSaga


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